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self love

Near the completion of my second college career I decided that I’d get more into reading self-help books, tending to my mental help and providing myself with continuous self-love (hey, that ought to be a post on it’s on ;)). During this journey, that I plan to make a permanent part of my lifestyle, I came across a 21 Day Gratitude Challenge.

Life is crazy. Life can be full of sh!t. But life is what YOU make it. I plan to make the most out of mine, my way. There are many things – negative, painful, revolting – in my life, and people including myself, that have contributed to all of the chaos that I have encountered and always dealt with in my head.

I never thought I’d be a person with insecurities. I am in no way a cocky person. I was raised and groomed to have confidence. My insecurities have always been more so with health issues than image. I was insecure about my insecurities. I’d never had a declining moment with self esteem during my adolescent years, but it took a hit during my college years. Growing up I didn’t have any major skin issues aside from what we all assumed to be a heat rash. Every summer (or so it seemed) I’d get little red bumps on one of my forearms. It happened other times when my body seemed to get overheated. The rashes lasted no longer than three or four days so there was no need to go to the doctor.

The older I get the more I realize I am a strong black woman like Maya Angelou I rise.

It seems like war going on right in front of our eyes, some days it seems like they want us to compromise.

Compromise our dignity, compromise our way of living, compromise the way we speak for what we believe in.

But no. We stand tall. We may fall but we will continue to fight on.

Fight for justice. Fight for peace. Fight for what’s right in our communities. Fight for equality.

We will rise. We will overcome. We will fight until the battle is won’.

Standing up for rights. Standing up for those afraid to speak. Giving all we have, we chant, we just want to be free. Free of hurt, free of pain free of reliving what our ancestors had to bear. Free of seeing our brothers and sisters killed while having their hands in the air begging to have their life spared.

We have never known justice, never known liberty and simply stand and fight for human rights that were taken from WE.

Tired of fighting the same transgressions and refuse to die in the same slavery our ancestors protested

Refusing to compromise our quality of life to simply pacify a people with no conception of what’s right

We will continue to awaken our own, continue to uncover crowns that our oppressors have stole

Enlisting melanated allies to fight for more, our aboriginal powers cannot be torn or taken away

After years of oppression we still shine bright as day, being feed by the sun, glowing and growing with every ray

I tend to always go with the flow
of life; calm, cool, and collected
going one way when others say
leaving my sense of me rejected
you before I, except after work, I never thought
twice about it before but Continue reading →

Growing up it took awhile for me to really see color. I mean I noticed it, but it wasn’t a big deal to me. A little girl in the hood, I thought everybody was just like me; we all had mamas, we all took the bus (207 and 218), we all ate off of food stamps (the color paper not the card labeled by three letters), we all lived in the hood. You get it. The differences that I saw were hair and money and, well, hell, money wasn’t a worry of mine. Where I grew up (both neighborhoods) was nothing but Black African Americans and Mexicans/Hispanics. We saw white people on tv and a billboard here or there. Again, didn’t mean anything. They were soo far away. Only not really we just didn’t see them often in our everyday lives. I assumed they all lived in the valley, which I didn’t think had a hood and they all had money and cars. My mother and other adults and kids around me always told me how pretty I looked and how beautiful I was. Even when I encountered people of other races and complexions I was complimented. You couldn’t tell me anything. I KNEW I was beautiful and maybe even conceited back then. I saw how light skin and white girls were everywhere on tv, but in my household and my neighbors there were pictures of beautiful, royal black folks all around. TV was just tv which I put in the categories of movies meaning not real just for show.